


We Make Fools of Ourselves

by irisbleufic



Series: Anthology 'Verse (& Related Errata) [7]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Formalwear, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music, Professors, Sentimental, Slow Dancing, Start of Semester, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Ohjeez,” Newton mutters, mouth full, brushing his hand off on his blazer.  “Is this for real?”“Your poor manners, or the fact that this song is of sentimental import?” Hermann asks snidely.“Both, Hermann, and fuck you,” Newton says, whirling Hermann onto the dance floor without warning.  “I already told you once I can’t lead for shit, but I’m sure gonna try.”





	We Make Fools of Ourselves

**Hong Kong, 22 January 2027**

Hermann studies the crowd milling about the hotel ballroom with a fierce sense of bewilderment. The Kowloon Shangri-La is nothing to scoff at, but he feels out of place.

“Would you please remind me,” he hisses furtively to Newton, “what we’re doing here?”

“At the HKU Engineering Alumni Association Dinner and Dance?” Newton asks, leading Hermann back over to the buffet. “Uh, my department head invited us because her husband’s an alum? Plus, Ming got to come with. Who knew she liked fancy dress this much?”

“Certainly not that young man with whom she was briefly associated last year,” Hermann sniffs, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She’d asked to borrow one of Newton’s old suits—if the eclectic ensemble could, in fact, be called such—and one of Hermann’s waistcoats.

“Credit where credit’s due,” sighs Newton, watching her chat up a recent graduate, “her taste in women’s way better than her taste in men. I’m _serious_ , Hermann. I’d rather see her reel in an ambitious lady engineer than some slacker of a—”

“She’s not quite out of university, and you’re already trying to marry her off!” Hermann scoffs.

Newton sighs, fondly long-suffering. “No, _Hermann_. I’m expressing my hopes for her.”

“Rest assured,” Hermann replies, snagging another brie tartelette, “we’re on the same page.”

Loitering off to one side, they share the _hors d’oeuvre_ while Ming, on the far side of the buffet table, gestures at the stage where the live music is about to start. The young alumna whose hand she has clasped between her own laughs and laughs.

“We’ve taken in a regular womanizer,” says Hermann, and the band strikes up without warning.

_When I'm away from you,_  
_I know what to say and do,_  
_but every time you're near,_  
_my courage disappears—_

“Oh _jeez_ ,” Newton mutters, mouth full, brushing his hand off on his blazer. “Is this for real?”

“Your poor manners, or the fact that this song is of sentimental import?” Hermann asks snidely.

“Both, Hermann, and fuck you,” Newton says, whirling Hermann onto the dance floor without warning. “I already told you once I can’t lead for shit, but I’m sure gonna try.”

“Sweep me off my feet,” Hermann murmurs, suddenly too giddy to argue. “I’ll take over if I must.”

_The words are on my lips_  
_when my composure slips._  
_While you're collected and cool,_  
_I make a fool of myself._

Ming, who seemingly hadn't been successful in getting the other young woman to dance with her, gives them a thumbs-up from the sidelines. Her outfit, even covered in tartelette crumbs, really does become her. Hermann has to wonder if further items of _his_ clothing are next on her docket.

“Mr. Valli still has our number,” Newton says, breaking into a smug grin as they sway.

“Yours, perhaps,” Hermann counters, ruffling the hair at Newton’s nape. “I ought to have taken you for your word [that evening in the lab](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075605/chapters/3428252). You’re a terrible dancer. Absolutely no rhythm whatsoever.”

“Would I lie to you?” Newton asks, leaning close, not concentrating on his feet anymore.

“You never do,” Hermann replies, meeting Newton’s parted lips without a second thought.


End file.
